


Fizzled

by durgasdragon



Series: Spark & Mark [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 19:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/durgasdragon/pseuds/durgasdragon
Summary: Mycroft offers his support.





	Fizzled

** Fizzled **

** _Disclaimer: This is a purely fan-made piece that is using the world and characters from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s _ ** **Sherlock Holmes** **,_and is made entirely for enjoyment. No financial gain has been made in the making of this piece. All situations, plots, and other parts have been constructed by me and are my own creations_**

** _Summary: Mycroft offers his support._ **

** _Author’s Note: Second in the Spark & Mark Series. Possible out-of characterness. Un-beta’d and not written by a Brit._ **

** _Constructive Criticism is always welcomed_ **

** _Published: 16 September 2019_ **

** _Rating: K+_ **

** Sherlock looked as if he was in a black mood, which was quite the change from the previous week. He could barely contain himself then and had even gone as far as to buy Mycroft lunch at the Club and a very nice bottle of wine to go with it. It wasn’t often that his brother was so joyful and happy, but it usually didn’t change so abruptly.**

** Mycroft studied his younger brother for a moment before he felt his face soften. “It was unreciprocated,” he breathed, his chest tightening. Truly, his brother did not deserve this. “I am very sorry.”**

** Sherlock dropped himself on the chair across from Mycroft without his usual dramatic flair. He stared ahead blankly as Mycroft rang for another cup and possibly for a glass of something stronger.**

** Once the request had been made, he focused on his sibling again. “You did not tell him, a decision I do not disagree with. He will not be able to use that against you.”**

** “He wouldn’t,” Sherlock said, almost dully. “He is…the very essence of kindness, from what I have seen.”**

** “Even kind souls can be turned,” Mycroft countered as gently as he could. “If he shares the views of the government on introverts or if he is a man who believes in following the law to the letter, regardless of his feelings…” He let the implication hang between them.**

** “He harbours sympathies for introverts. Not for the rampart ones with no sense of propriety, of course, but he feels that if a man feels a strong jolt with another man, they should be left alone.” Pale eyes drifted and lost focus. “He said too many good men’s lives were destroyed by something they could not control.”**

** The elder Holmes made a non-committal noise as a manservant entered and arranged things neatly in front of the younger one. He waited until the door was firmly shut again before he said “still, there is no need to make him privy to such information.”**

** “It would make him feel guilty,” Sherlock agreed, as if that was really what the elder Holmes was concerned about. “And it isn’t his fault that he did not spark with me.”**

** Mycroft could feel the unspoken, self-loathing words filling his brother’s head and hated the world for treating his little brother so abominably. “Well, I know of some gentlemen whom I could introduce you to,” he offered quietly. The best thing, he thought, would be to find someone else for Sherlock; he might not jolt as strongly with them as he had with this doctor of his, but jolts could get stronger with time.**

** “Thank you, but it won’t be necessary.”**

** “It would be no imposition,” Mycroft said. “A few of them would be compatible with you and you might spark—”**

** “I wouldn’t.”**

** “You won’t know if you don’t try.”**

** “I could try, but it wouldn’t matter.” Sherlock looked up at his sibling, face almost miserable. He tapped his chest, edge of his throat, and wrist. “I’m thrice marked.”**

** Mycroft drew a deep, sharp breath. It was not entirely uncommon for someone to receive the heart mark of someone who did not spark at the same time, but it was rare to have the heart and soul mark of someone who did feel a jolt back; he had never heard of someone receiving the heart, soul, and encompassing mark and having it be unreciprocated. Ever. “Oh, Sherlock. I truly am sorry.”**

** He paused, then delicately asked “how soon did the encompassing mark show up?” Marks—especially the encompassing one on the wrist—could take time to show up. Many people jolted and never saw a heart mark appear, much less one on the hollow of the throat or the wrist, and just as many didn’t see marks develop until much later in the relationship. It was disconcerting how quickly his brother had been marked, but maybe it was brought on by close proximity.**

** Sherlock’s mouth twisted. “I found it not long after I left you last week.”**

** Mycroft bit his tongue hard enough he almost drew blood. Marks that showed up so quickly really did mean that man was about as close perfect for his brother as was humanely possible and Sherlock knew it. The marks, which must have brought his lonely brother so much joy and happiness last week, now mocked him with what he could never have.**

** “Is there anything you need from me?” Mycroft finally asked, knowing he had little to offer.**

** “I am going to need new ways to cover my wrist,” Sherlock said, after a few moments of reflection. “Something a little more varied and lasting than sticking plaster.”**

** Of course, he wanted to keep the marks intact; Sherlock always was a secreted romantic at heart. “I will see what I can come up with. Are you quite certain you wish to continue living with him?”**

** He didn’t answer right away. “Yes,” he whispered eventually. “I want to know him before…before I make any decisions that are impossible to undo.”**

** Mycroft nodded slowly. He understood; if his Jaya hadn’t felt their jolt, he still would have wanted to gotten to know her, illogical as that was. “Please notify me if that changes.”**

** It was a testimony to how Sherlock was felling because he took the offer at face value and didn’t sneer at it.**

** They sat in silence, each with their own concerns. Finally, Sherlock stood up. “I must return to Baker Street,” he said, a mix of desolation and doomed delight. “I’ll keep you abreast of the situation.”**

** “Thank you. I know I’ve made the offer, but it bears repeating: if you need anything—a warm, discreet body, some time on the continent, or new lodging—do not hesitate to wire me.”**

** “I will bear that in mind.” He fiddled with his gloves for a moment. He glanced up. “I would rather we never discuss this again.”**

** Mycroft inclined his head slightly. “Of course.”**

** Sherlock smiled, briefly and painfully. “I will see you later. Good day.”**

** Mycroft acknowledged the departure and sat back in his chair, thinking. He had agreed not to interfere, but that did not preclude him from have various solutions in place for when his brother did come to him. He could also do some research about jolting and sparks. Perhaps then, he could find out what was wrong with Sherlock’s doctor.**

** He laboriously got to his feet and rang for some paper and ink. Since there was no pressing crisis facing the country that required his attention, he could dedicate his full attention to trying to fix his brother’s unhappiness.**

** He would not allow Sherlock to be the one who never had someone whom spark back.**

** _x Fin x_ **


End file.
